<!DOCTYPE html>
<html>
<head>
<meta charset="UTF-8">
<title>Loose Lips by Ride4812</title>
<style type="text/css">

body { background-color: #ffffff; }
.CI {
text-align:center;
margin-top:0px;
margin-bottom:0px;
padding:0px;
}
.center   {text-align: center;}
.cover    {text-align: center;}
.full     {width: 100%; }
.quarter  {width: 25%; }
.smcap    {font-variant: small-caps;}
.u        {text-decoration: underline;}
.bold     {font-weight: bold;}
</style>
</head>
<body>
<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29220270">Loose Lips</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ride4812/pseuds/Ride4812'>Ride4812</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Shameless (US)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>M/M</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-02-05</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-02-05</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-18 00:55:18</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,657</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29220270</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ride4812/pseuds/Ride4812</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Ian Gallagher &amp; Mickey Milkovich, Ian Gallagher/Mickey Milkovich</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>53</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Loose Lips</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Though he was in his mid-twenties and drinking was fully legal for him—even while on parole—Mickey didn’t drink to get drunk the way he has in his younger years. He’d spent most of his teens getting blitzed on whatever alcohol he could get his hands on, and enjoying the escape. Years in prison and too much tequila in Mexico had Mickey tossing back a couple of beers here and there, but not hitting the bottle hard like he used to. Maybe subconsciously he abstained from getting shitty because he didn’t want Ian to do the same. He didn’t comment on it, but it bothered Mickey when Ian so much as sipped a drink considering the medication he was on. Whenever Mickey got the urge to bring up something regarding Ian’s medications, he reminded himself of how badly the conversations had gone in the past and held back. Ian was doing well. There was no need to make a problem where there wasn’t one. </p><p>Occasionally, Mickey stopped thinking about the implications and got properly wasted like he used to. It was atypical for him to surrender control unless he was alone with Ian, but there were exceptions to every standard he held himself to—-especially when Kev was pouring heavy in celebration of Mickey and Ian’s engagement. </p><p>“I thought I was gonna be a rapper when I was eight,” Mickey stated, as he ran his fingertip over the rim of his drink. “Like Eminem. This really angry white dude rapper.”</p><p>Ian stared at Mickey like he’d just admitted he was a serial killer before break into peals of laughter. “Seriously?”</p><p>Bristling, Mickey answered, “Yes,” his voice laced with all the challenge he could muster over something he didn’t give a shit about. </p><p>“You don’t even listen to rap. Did you then?”</p><p>“Nope.”</p><p>“Why a rapper and not a heavy metal rocker or something? You played guitar.”</p><p>“I barely played guitar,” Mickey corrected. “I stole one and fucked around win it for a while.”</p><p>Ian nodded, licking the smile off his lips as he gestured for Kev to give Mickey another drink. “Shit’s getting interesting. Fill him up.”</p><p>“Isn’t that your job?” Kev smirked, splashing more cheap vodka into Mickey’s mostly empty glass. </p><p>“Hey, hey,” Mickey grumbled. “I’m not drunk enough to think your dumbass is funny yet.”</p><p>“Keep drinking then. There’s more where that came from,” Kev promised, reaching over the bar to tussle Mickey’s hair. </p><p>Pushing his hand away, Mickey quickly fixed his hair before turning to Ian who was giggling at the exchange. </p><p>“You better be talking about the vodka,” Mickey warned. </p><p>Kev nodded and said, “That too,” before tending to a group of guys sitting at the end of the bar. </p><p>“Can’t wait to fill you up,” Ian crooned, resting his hand on Mickey’s lower back. As he inches his digits closer to the band of his jeans, Mickey hummed appreciatively. “Gonna hit it good.”</p><p>“You better.”</p><p>“Hit it as good as you would’ve hit those bars as DJ Mickey Mix.”</p><p>Crinkling his nose, Mickey scoffed at the name. “I wouldn’t have called myself that dumb shit.”</p><p>“What would your name would've been?”</p><p>Mickey shrugged and uttered, “Me and Mandy were gonna have a group. We called ourselves M and M.”</p><p>That was it for Ian. He laughed so hard that his face turned radish red. </p><p>“I would’ve been badass. I probably would’ve had to cut Mandy to make it...”</p><p>“Nobody would’ve been able to understood a word you said.”</p><p>“Fuck off,” Mickey admonished, grinning when Ian leaned in to slot their lips together. </p><p>“I love your little mumbly mouth,” Ian promised, giving him a couple of more pecks before pulling away. “You taste like vodka.”</p><p>“Cause you keep throwing it down my throat. Think you’re trying to get me drunk, Gallagher. Think that’s the only way you’re gonna her lucky?”</p><p>“Know it’s not,” Ian assured, reaching across Mickey to grab his left hand. He slid his fingers over the ring he’d put on Mickey a few hours before. “This shit is pretty much a guarantee.”</p><p>“Your dick is the guarantee,” Mickey corrected, grunting when he drained the last of his drink. “Fuck.” Squeezing his eyelids shut, he willed his throat to ignore the fire that was flooding down it. He’d known was tipsy when he actually spoke of M and M aloud, but the last guzzle went right to his head and then he was laughing, hard and loud. </p><p>Taken aback and amused, Ian asked, “Baby, what’s so funny?”</p><p>“You’re gonna get married.”</p><p>“Yeah, to you...” </p><p>“Fucking nerd,” Mickey chuckled. “You were always a little nerd. All mad about me stealing shit at the Kash and Grab. Oh! I’m Ian,” he mocked waving his hands around, “why don’t you have some civic pride!!”</p><p>“You said ‘yes,’” Ian reminded defensively. “You didn’t even let me finish proposing. So you, my fiancé, are the nerd.”</p><p>“I’m just real gay.” </p><p>“Oh yeah?”</p><p>“Mm-hmm,” Mickey hummed, flicking Ian’s ear. He drunkenly squealed with glee when Ian flicked him back, a goofy grin on his freckled face. “That all you got, Gangly? A little fag flick?”</p><p>“You gave me one first. You want a bitch slap?” Ian offered, playfully smacking Mickey’s cheek. “I got a bitch slap for ya.”</p><p>They traded feisty face pats until Mickey leaned back too far on the stool and went tumbling to the floor. The shocked look on face made Mickey laugh harder.</p><p>“You okay?” Ian asked, hurrying to Mickey’s side as soon as he got his wits about him. He squawked when Mickey shot up to deliver a ball tap. “Asshole.”</p><p>“You pushes me off the stool,” Mickey stated, rolling around in an attempt to avoid Ian’s payback. </p><p>“You fell!” Ian cried, struggling to get access to Mickey’s junk. </p><p>“Yo, dummies,” Kev called from the far side of the bar. “No foreplay on my floor.”</p><p>“Foreplay’s ass eating and nipple pinching. This don’t do shit for me,” Mickey lied, adjusting his hard on as he stood on his wobbly legs. “I gotta piss.”</p><p>“I’ll walk you there,” Ian said, looping his arm around Mickey’s waist. Any other time, Mickey would have admonished Ian for assuming he was too drunk to get somewhere on his own—he was used to taking care of himself—but he let it go, considering it a win that he could get his man to bang him in the bathroom. </p><p>“Don’t fuck in the crapper,” Kev warned. </p><p>“Isn’t that where gay guys do it?” Tommy quipped, earning a middle finger salute from Mickey and Ian. </p><p>As soon as they got into the restroom, Mickey went for Ian’s belt. “Fuck me.”</p><p>“I’m not fucking you in the Alibi bathroom,” Ian bristled, pushing Mickey’s eager hands away. </p><p>“We’ve done it in here, like, a hundred times.”</p><p>“I’m not fuck you in the Alibi bathroom on the night we got engaged,” Ian clarified, garnering an eyeroll from an impatient Mickey.</p><p>“Finger me a little then.”</p><p>Ian grinned and slid his hand down the back of Mickey’s jeans while leaning in to connect their mouths. They made out hungrily as Ian teased Mickey’s hole with the pad of his middle finger. Two arms wrapped tightly around Ian’s neck, prompted him to kiss Mickey with a heightened intensity. </p><p>“Add another one,” Mickey demanded breathlessly, turning away from Ian so he could rest his elbows on the sink and give his fiancé better access. <br/>Ian did as he was told, pushing two digits in and out of Mickey as he hunched over him to suture his lips to the back of Mickey’s neck. </p><p>“Fuck me, baby,” Mickey pleaded, turning his head enough to look directly in Ian’s blown out pupils. “Need it.”</p><p>“I want it to be special...romantic.”</p><p>“And I want you to stop being such a pussy. I’ll say nice shit while you plow me, alright?”</p><p>Signing, Ian took of his belt and dropped his drawers. “Fine, but we’re doing it nice and sweet at home.” Ian gave Mickey’s ass a slap to indicate that he should get back into position. </p><p>Mickey bit his lower lip as Ian breached his hole. “Mmm, yeah.” Groaning as Ian bottomed out, Mickey cooed, “Can’t wait to have that dick for the rest of my life.”</p><p>“It would be nicer if you said can’t wait to have you,” Ian murmured, starting to rock in Mickey just the way he liked it. </p><p>“Yeah that too...” Mickey uttered, craning his neck to show Ian he wanted a kiss. When Ian obliged and slid his tongue in Mickey’s mouth, Mickey rested his hand on Ian’s cheek and exhaled into the kiss. “I love you.”</p><p>“Love you more, Mick” Ian promised, grabbing Mickey’s hips hard as he fucked him harder. </p><p>Mickey focused on pumping his dick while Ian kept a punishing rhythm.</p><p>A persistent knock on the door didn’t deter them from their purpose. </p><p>“C’mon,” Kev whined. “People gotta pee.”</p><p>“We’re almost done,” Mickey yelled back before whispering to Ian, “Shove it through my guts.”</p><p>Ian smiled and grabbed Mickey’s shoulders, pulling his trunk back while he plunged his dick in deeper.</p><p>“Fuck,” Mickey groaned as a stream of cum shot onto the already tacky floor. He hummed as he felt Ian’s loud paint his insides. <br/>As they caught their breath, Mickey fixed his hair in the mirror, grinning when Ian came up behind him to give his cheek a sweet kiss.</p><p>“You better be ready for round two,” Ian insisted.</p><p>“When have I have I ever turned down a hat-trick?”</p><p>“A hat-trick’s three.”</p><p>Mickey lifted his eyebrows and gave his fiancé a mischievous smirk. </p><p>They exited the bathroom hand-in-hand ignoring a very aggravated Kev standing just outside the door. </p><p>“You better have cleaned up after yourselves,” Kev warned. </p><p>“The place is a shit hole,” Mickey reminded, pulling Ian toward the front door. </p><p>“Thanks for the drinks,” Ian called as he followed Mickey’s lead. </p><p>They had love to make.</p>
  </div></div>
</body>
</html>